


once The Dust has settled

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Gig making friends, Group Sex, M/M, Other, Past Relationship(s), Trans Character, brief reference to a past version of fourteen dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Sharing a small ship with six other people takes some getting used to. That's okay. Gig's used to navigating unfamiliar spaces.





	once The Dust has settled

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd!!!! And also extremely self-indulgent!!!!

_ An excerpt from KepFans: the mesh’s longest running Gig Kep-hart fan forum _

MxFixIt: That Grand guy is pretty cute, I hope he’s on another stream soon

GumptionGurl: i mean probably he will since theyre dating

MxFixIt: Oh!! I didn’t know that

Eyeguyfan251: Stev, you say that about everyone who guests on Gig’s streams EVER

GumptionGurl: oh like you didnt think he was dating kent too

MxFixIt: He was D E F I N I T E L Y dating Kent

Eyeguyfan251: yeah, okay, MAYBE, but we don’t know that much about the people he’s on this crew with, you can’t POSSIBLY know they’re dating

Eyeguyfan251: besides, didn’t you JUST give a big speech yesterday about how he’s Deeply In Love with Echo? And last week you said he with Tender. And when they were on Quire you said he was quote basically secretly married unquote to Janey and that big otter guy

MxFixIt: Surge

Eyeguyfan251: lol of course YOU remember that

MxFixIt: HEY

GumptionGurl: hes dating all of them

Eyeguyfan251: come on

GumptionGurl: ALL. OF. THEM.

  
  


_ Signet _

It's strange, being is such close quarters with people. Tender and Fourteen Fifteen are easier to get used to, she already knows a little of their habits, of how they move through the world. The others… well.

 

Signet tries to rise above it, ignoring the increasingly cramped shared spaces and the rising wait time for the showers in the morning (Tender and Fourteen are not morning people, but apparently Even and Echo are, although they keep their shower times short). 

 

Grand, when he meets her, stares while trying to pretend that he's not staring, looking away quickly whenever she turns her head. That's fine. It happens quite a lot with people who want to talk to her but aren't sure where to begin (although it  _ does _ make her feel a little like she’s still at work). It's just a matter of waiting until he asks to speak with her, and if nothing else she's well practised at waiting people out. That's fine too.

 

One morning, after everyone is finally on board, she walks into the small communal dining area, and there's a horse. It's mane moves like its underwater, ethereal in the permanent twilight coming in through the ship’s windows.

 

Signet stares at the horse. The horse stares back at her. 

 

A head pops up from behind the horse. “Oh! Hello! You must be They Marked Scars Of Light In Pitch Born In Fiercest Purpose And Beheld As The Signet Sealed Upon Our Pact--” He says he name quickly, all in one breath, pausing to take a quick inhale, “--I'm Gig!”

 

“Yes,” says Signet, “I know. And just Signet is fine.”

 

“Oh that’s a real time-saver,” says Gig, nodding, “And this is Duck.”

 

“This… right.”

 

“He's my horse,” Gig adds helpfully. 

 

“Okay,” says Signet slowly. 

 

She steps cautiously towards them. Duck extends his mane in greeting, the tendrils of hair forming something like a hand. Something odd burbles up in Signet’s chest, light and unexpected, and… she laughs. It’s not loud, or long, but it’s been a while since something’s been such a unexpected and odd surprise that  _ doesn’t  _ have any sinister underpinnings. Gig grins back at her from behind Duck. It’s a brighter version than the one she’s seen on his streams.

 

“Pleased to meet you,” says Signet. 

 

Duck neighs.

 

“He's pleased to meet you too,” says Gig, “You want breakfast? We were just having breakfast.”

 

“It's noon,” says Signet.

 

“Time is weird now,” says Gig, “And, also, I just got up.”

 

“I’ve been awake for a while,” says Signet, “but I will have tea, since you have it.”

 

It’s not as elegant as her usual tea ceremony -- she uses Gig’s assortment of mismatched cups, and the lid to his teapot doesn’t fit quite right, but it’s still a calming process, centring her. Gig has some brightly-coloured cereal for himself and some equally brightly-coloured fruits for Duck which he brought with him from Brighton.

 

She sits down next to Duck, and listens to the cheerful, disjointed conversation between Duck and Gig for a while as she sips her tea. It’s strangely peaceful, listening to half a conversation (or, three quarters -- sometimes Duck’s neighs sound almost exactly like words).

 

Gig’s tone of voice changes as he starts streaming, slowing down the speed that he speaks a fraction and upping what she can only describe as the  _ pep _ . Signet is relieved that the camera doesn’t linger on her as it pans around the room.

 

“Oh, hey, people are asking who you are,” says Gig, voice quieter as he turns towards her, “is it okay if I, like, tell them your name and stuff?”

 

“As long as I’m not on stream,” says Signet.

 

“You got it,” says Gig. He turns back to the camera, gesturing to her even though he keeps it trained on him, “This is--” he takes a comically deep breath in “-- They Marked Scars Of Light In Pitch Born In Fiercest Purpose And Beheld As The Signet Sealed Upon Our Pact, and she’s my very good friend.” Duck snuffles next to him, reaching towards a piece of fruit over Gig’s shoulder. “And she’s Duck’s friend too, although, I guess you guys sort of only just met like, twenty minutes ago, so I shouldn’t assume.”

 

Duck buts against Gig’s shoulder.

 

“You’re right! We became friends much faster than that! So maybe you are?”

 

He glances towards her, eyes darting towards her and back to the camera, probably unnoticeable unless you’d spent a very long lifetime reading body language.

 

“We’re friends,” says Signet, loud enough that she knows she’ll be heard clearly on screen.

 

Gig beams at her, bright and utterly delighted, like she’s given him a gift. 

 

He's quieter after he finishes his stream, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes for a moment. Signet pours him some tea and he leans forward, his chin resting in his hand as he leans on the table, his eyes following her motions. 

 

“That's cool,” says Gig, “how you do all, you know,  _ that. _ I normally just like, leave the tea bag in and add a bunch of sugar. It’s a cool way to do it.”

 

Signet smiles. “Thank you.” She pauses for a moment, considering. “Would Duck like some tea?”

 

Gig blinks. “Oh, maybe--” Duck neighs, butting Gig's shoulder. “I guess not. He'd, um,” Gig's voice has a hesitance to it she hasn't heard before. “He'd probably like some groundfruit though, if you want to feed him?”

 

“Of course,” says Signet. 

 

The groundfruits are small and a little squishy. Duck tickles her palm when she leans over to feed them to him. 

 

“Oh, I didn't think you'd, um,” Gig pauses, “Some people get kind of weird about Duck sometimes. And about me streaming while we're hanging out. And about my eye. And about-- Anyway. I'm glad you didn't-- I'm glad I didn't weird you out.”

 

“It's fine. I would tell you if I felt uncomfortable.”

 

She reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. She has a lot of experience providing comfort, and, in the moment, Gig seems to need it. 

 

He stills under her hand and then, his movements quick, leans forward and pulls her in for a clumsy hug, his long arms wrapping around her sides. It's a little awkward -- Gig's face is pressed against her shoulder and they're both turned at an odd angle -- but there's a lack of pretence, a lack of demand, from him that Signet likes. 

 

“I'm glad you and Duck can be friends,” says Gig, his voice a little muffled.

 

Signet puts her hand on the back of Gig's head, running her fingers through his fluffy blonde hair. “I'm glad too.”

 

She presses a kiss to the top of his head and he leans back, a light flush on his cheeks. She smiles, moving to pour more tea for the both of them.

 

“You know,” says Signet slowly, “if you  _ really _ like the way I do tea, I could show you some of my teas. There’s a more… proper way to do it. If you’d like to see it.”

 

“Oh, yeah, that sounds cool,” says Gig, nodding quickly.

 

“Not for a stream,” says Signet, “This would be just for you.”

 

The flush on Gig’s cheeks deepens, and he grins widely. “That sounds-- that would be  _ really _ cool. I-- thanks.”

 

Signet smiles, and takes a small sip of her tea.

  
  


_ Even _

Even mostly keeps to himself while he’s on the ship, at least at first. It’s strange to move around by  _ walking _ instead of letting his hair pull him along. A few times he accidentally feels too much of the ship and puts them off course, although he manages to fix it before anyone notices.

 

Or. He’s pretty  _ sure _ no one’s noticed it. Echo gave him an odd look when they caught him fixing it, but Even was able to mostly brush it off.

 

He’s getting better at holding himself in control, not reaching for the ship’s controls unless he  _ means _ to, not letting something merge with him unless he  _ needs _ it to (and, yeah, maybe a couple extra times where he just  _ wanted _ it to, but he made sure it was non-essential beforehand), being careful to move through the ship by  _ walking _ unless he’s absolutely  _ sure _ everyone’s asleep.

 

It’s a great system. However, it doesn’t account for Gig getting up in the middle of the night and take the long way to the kitchen through the common room where Even is hanging.

 

“ _ Whoa _ ,” says Gig from behind him.

 

Even swears and drops down, his hair twining itself back up into the tight braid he keeps it in around the crew. Gig moves to his side immediately, crouching next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Sorry, are you okay?” says Gig, “You kind of just… fell down.”

 

“I’m fine,” says Even, “I couldn’t sleep so I was just, ah, stretching my--”

 

“ _ Hair _ ?” says Gig.

 

“Stretching my  _ legs _ ,” says Even.

 

Even doesn’t need this to be a  _ thing _ , you know? He looks a lot different now, he  _ is _ a lot different now, but he’s part of this team. He needs this to work.

 

Gig’s hands flick out towards Even’s hair and then pulls back. “How’d you  _ do _ that though?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Do  _ that _ , you know,” Gig waggles his fingers next to his head, “ _ that _ , with your hair?”

 

Even shrugs, like it’s normal. It’s become that way, for him. Tying it up all the time is the part that feels weird now, cramped after a long day.

 

“Can I touch it?” says Gig.

 

Even looks up at Gig. “What?”

 

“Your hair,” says Gig, “I mean, it’s, uh…”

 

He gestured, and Even follows his movement. A tendril of his hair has escaped it’s tie and has twined itself around Gig’s ankle. Even feels himself flush, mentally pulling at the hair to retreat.

 

“Sorry,” says Even.

 

“It’s cool,” says Gig, “I mean, I missed you too.”

 

From anyone else it would sound cutting, a reminder of unreturned calls and messages from the past year, but Gig’s tone is far too earnest for that.  _ Gig _ is far too earnest for that. Even relaxes his hold on his hair, and the tendril loops around Gig’s leg again. Gig makes a pleased noise, running curious fingers over the thick strand of hair. 

 

“It, uh, kind of has a mind of its own these days,” says Even.

 

As the words leave him, another tendril of hair creeps around Gig’s wrist. Even freezes, staring at the way the strand wraps around Gig’s small wrist. He swallows hard, pressing his lips together.

 

“Sorry,” says Even, his voice coming out almost as a whisper.

 

Gig seems unfazed, smiling down at his wrist before he looks back up at Even. “Don’t be. I think I kind of like where it’s mind is going.”

 

More of Even’s hair moves, unbidden, to wrap around Gig’s waist, pressing him close to Even. Gig clasps his hands at the back of Even’s neck to hold himself steady, huffing a laugh. Now that Even can see Gig more closely, he can see a faint blush spreading along Gig’s cheeks. Even puts his hands on Gig’s waist and his hair retreats, curling instead around Gig’s arms.

 

They’re pressed so close together, Even can feel Gig’s sharp intake of breath. “ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Sounds like your mind might be going there too,” says Even, grinning.

 

Gig laughs, the vibrations of it against Even’s chest. “Well if we’re both going to the same place, that sounds pretty good to me.”

  
  


_ Fourteen  _

Something about Gig feels so familiar to Fourteen. 

 

It might be from his streams, although they’ve never had much time to keep up with streams with their line of work. 

 

It might be from elsewhere, although they’ve never felt entirely comfortable asking other people for memories they should have. It doesn’t usually help anyway, the person that gets described to them is always just a stranger who shares their name.

 

Fourteen sort of remembers working on Gumption’s Gambit for a while, when they were younger. There was a man, only a little younger than they were at the time, who used to follow around the team of mechanics Fourteen had inserted themselves into, asking questions, filming short interviews on his homemade streaming rig in-between trying to make the crew laugh. They think they liked him, this strange boy, that he used to make them laugh too.

 

They can’t really see him, in their memory. The only thing that really remains is a bright smile, a tone of enthusiasm, and the bare curve of a hip under their hand in the early-morning light.

 

There’s something of Gig in that smile, they think, a warmth they half remember. It's probably a shame that, like most things these days, they only remember half of it. It wouldn’t be right of them to try and get Gig to give them to remaining half.

 

Sometimes, though, Gig will shoot them a  _ look  _ and Fourteen will half-reach for something in response, a gesture, perhaps, or a phrase on the tip of a tongue that is no longer their own. It feels so maddeningly  _ familiar _ .

 

Gig, for his part, doesn’t push, doesn’t give anything away apart from the occasional glance. Worthy of Grace probably wouldn’t have noticed. The Gunslinger would have pulled Gig into a secluded alcove to sort things out one way or another long ago. The Body Politic is more hesitant, more taken to turning the pieces over slowly and waiting to see what comes of it.

 

Nothing comes of it, for the longest time.

 

Then, one night, they and Gig are the only two left after a meal, and Gig gives them a  _ look _ , and something at the back of Fourteen’s mind says  _ now _ .

 

“Gig,” says Fourteen, “did we ever meet before this?”

 

Gig blinks. “What d’you mean?”

 

“I may not have looked the same,” says Fourteen, “and sometimes my memory can be a little… patchy.”

 

Gig looks stunned for a moment before he lets out a bright laugh. “Oh! I thought you were just being, like, secretive about it.”

 

“Was I a secretive sort when you knew me?” says Fourteen, trying to think back on which of their bodies were secretive.

 

Gig smiles. “Sometimes. Mostly just about your job though, not about--” he waves his hand between them, “you know.”

 

“Oh,” says Fourteen, “we were…” He copies Gig’s hand motion.

 

Gig’s smile takes on a strained edge to it for a moment before it’s back to its usual sunny brightness. “For a little while.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Gig shrugs. “You had to leave and you said you’d call, and then I heard you died.”

 

“Oh,” says Fourteen. They pause.  “Sorry about that.”

 

Gig laughs. “It’s alright man, I wasn’t really expecting to hear from you after that. I do kind of feel bad about repurposing your stuff now that I know you were still, like,  _ around _ .”

 

“I… what sort of stuff?”

 

“Just regular stuff,” says Gig, “clothes, this weird green showergel stuff, your guitar, stuff like that.”

 

“I played the guitar?” says Fourteen.

 

Gig laughs. “You did! And you were so  _ bad _ at it, just like, you could not string more than two right notes together.”

 

“A very avant garde performance,” says Fourteen.

 

“That’s what you used to say, yeah,” says Gig, nodding.

 

Fourteen blinks, and a something almost flickers in their mind before it goes out. It leaves a  _ feeling _ behind though, a feeling of the motion of a memory. There had been a version of them, at some point, that very much wanted, had very much expected to see Gig again. Fourteen can almost feel them in the bones of this entirely different body, as they put their hand over Gig’s. He looks up at them sharply.

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t call after I wasn’t dead,” says Fourteen.

 

Gig smiles, smaller than his usual but it feels warmer somehow, like a secret, like a badly-played guitar. He turns his hand under their’s and twines their fingers together, squeezing it.

 

“It’s really good to see you Fourteen,” says Gig, and he squeezes their hand back.

  
  


_ Grand _

The rattle of the ship’s engines shakes the walls around them. This close, the engine room all other sounds are muffled, the sound of the engines blocking out all other noises. It can be overwhelming, especially because in the past year the reason Grand has been this close to an engine is because there’s been something wrong with that needed an urgent fix.

 

That is not the case right now.

 

Right now, Grand barely feels the wall vibrating where he’s pressed against it, caught up with the new-old feeling of Gig against him. 

 

Gig’s taller than him, always has been, but Grand only ever feels it when they’re like this, when Gig tucks himself around Grand, his long limbs either side of Grand, braceting Grand against the wall. Grand clutches at the back of Gig’s patchwork jacket, glad that the breathy whine he makes disappears under the sound of the engines.

 

Grand has to lean up to catch Gig’s lips. Gig pulls him closer, his hands hot through the fabric of Grand’s hoodie, lifting him up before pressing him back against the grease-streaked wall, harder this time, so he won’t fall. Grand gasps, feeling a jolt of heat in the pit of his stomach. He always forgets that a lifetime of scrambling around Gumption’s Gambit have left Gig much stronger than he looks, and a year spent fixing and building things have only added to that.

 

He wraps his legs around Gig’s waist, feeling pleased at Gig’s responding moan, the vibration of it where they're pressed together. Gig ducks his head, sucking slow, bruising kisses down Grand’s neck as he rocks his hips against Grand’s. Grand trembles, clutching at Gig’s shoulders, at his hair, not bothering to muffle the sounds Gig pulls from him. No one can hear them down here.

 

Gig leans back slightly, grinning as Grand tries to follow his motion. Grand makes a face -- or, he tries to, his grouchy expression is probably ruined by a gasp as Gig’s fingers flex, shifting his grip. Gig presses a kiss to Grand's lips, light and fast, and then another, slow and langid, sending a liquid heat through Grand’s body.

 

Gig leans back, saying something Grand can't hear over the engines. He must make a face to that effect, because Gig leans down close, lips brushing against Grand's skin in a way that makes him squirm. 

 

“I said,  _ I'm glad we both took this job _ .”

 

Grand doesn't know if he means the job from Cascara to be on the team, or the particular job of looking over the engines. Either way, in this moment, he couldn't agree more. 

 

He pulls Gig back so he can kiss him, revelling in the way Gig gasps into his mouth.

 

They have a while, until they're missed by the rest of the crew. Grand intends to make the most of it. 

  
  


_ Tender _

Tender knows him from her bar, from way back in the day. It had taken her a while to work out that Gig, the guy with the loud laugh who’d come in every once in a while, was the same as Gig Kep-hart, the stream star. He never talked about his work, really, keeping it vague enough that he could have been anything from an EMT to a mechanic to a preschool teacher.

 

She'd never been one to shy away from a mystery, especially not when it was leaning over her bar, keeping her company as she packed everything away. 

 

Gig ducked his head. “I, y’know, um. People are here to have a good fun time. I don't want them to worry about how they look on stream when they're trying to have a good fun time.”

 

“The workers on your streams always seem like they're having a good fun time,” said Tender, “well, mostly.”

 

Gig laughed. “Yeah, mostly they are, after they get used to me being there for a bit.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the doorway for a moment. “And it’s good to turn it off for a bit, sometimes, y’know? Like, I love it, it’s so much fun, every single part of it is my favourite, but sometimes it’s kind of… draining.”

 

“Yeah,” Tender said, “I get it.”

 

She  _ loved _ running The Steady, but she wouldn’t want to do it 24/7. She poured him another drink, a bright blue cocktail that was mostly juice.

 

“On the house,” said Tender.

 

Gig shot her a bright smile, then glanced over his shoulder at the empty room. “Guess I should drink this one quick, huh?”

 

They were the last two left in the place. This time around The Steady was in the form of a large outdoor garden, a clear dome overhead showing the twilight mirage above them and the appropriately rustic furniture lit by twinkling fairy lights. Tender had turned most of the lights off already, leaving them in a small firelit patch by the bar, giving them a feeling on intimacy in a large space.

 

Tender smiled, toasting him with her own, metallic purple drink. “Nah, you can take your time.”

 

Gig blinked, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well alright.”

 

They both take their time, that night in the peaceful stillness of The Steady. Gig apologises on stream for missing his usual morning greeting, and Tender laughs to herself as she watches it, thinking about the sucked-purple bruises on his chest, out of sight of the stream. She sends him the code for their next opening night.

 

The Gig she meets years later is just as fast to smile, jumping into a conversation about building a pool on the ship. They scout around the ship, pointing out areas it could go. She leans a little closer than she really needs to, pulling at the mesh to sketch out her ideas. Gig leans in closer than he needs in response, his voice quiet as he makes suggestions like he’s sharing a secret with her instead of talking about water distribution. 

 

“Maybe we can collaborate on building it?” Tender offers, “layer the mesh over the physical before I make some changes to it.”

 

Gig nods looking over the room they’ve chosen for it. “Might take more time doing it that way.”

 

“I think we can take our time with it,” says Tender, “although I might make you late for your stream again.”

 

Gig’s laugh is just as bright as she remembers.

  
  


_ Echo _

Echo likes being in the ship’s bridge late in the crew's set sleep cycle. Everything is quiet and still, and the stars are laid out in front of them. The eye patch shows faint tracking lines of their flight path, disappearing into the not-quite-blackness of the Mirage. 

 

The eye patch flags Gig behind them before they hear Gig's tentative knock. 

 

“Gig,” Echo says in greeting, not turning around. 

 

“Uh, hey.” 

 

Gig fidgets in the doorway. Echo sighs and moves slightly to their left, gesturing for Gig to sit, if he wants. Gig sits down, his hands fluttering down to fold in his lap. There's a tenseness in his shoulder’s that's unfamiliar, as though he's straining to keep himself still. 

 

“So,” says Gig after a moment, “what’cha doing?”

 

“Not much,” says Echo, “Looking at our flight path.”

 

“Oh,” says Gig. 

 

He falls silent. Echo's eye patch gives them a pop up notification that Gig's pulse has gone up. Out of the corner of their eye, they can see his hands twisting in his lap. 

 

“Was there something you wanted?” says Echo. 

 

“I uh,” Gig bites his lip, “we haven't seen each other since-- in a while, and I guess I wanted to check in? With how you are?”

 

Echo frowns.  “I'm fine.”

 

“Right,” says Gig, “No, yeah, totally, of course you are. Cool.”

 

The pop-up notification on Echo's eye patch lets them know that Gig's pulse has gone up again. They turn towards him, more curious than concerned. Gig's looking down, curling and uncurling the bottom of the bright yellow singlet he's wearing.  _ Now _ they  _ are  _ concerned. 

 

He must feel Echo's eyes on him, because he looks up. Echo can see a faint flush to his cheeks in the dim light. 

 

“Yeah, okay, so, uh,” says Gig, “yeah, I guess I'll uh, I'll leave you to it.”

 

He moves to stand, but they catch his wrist, keeping him still. 

 

“Gig,” says Echo, “what do you want, really?”

 

Gig looks away. “I just… things were so weird at the end of everything, and I never checked in with you after-- after everything happened. I feel like I… like I didn't have your back as much as I could have. I guess I, um, I guess what I really want to know is if you're okay  _ with me _ ?”

 

He doesn't look up, his hands trembling a little. Echo frowns. They'd understand if this was Even, awkward around them in his new body, or Grand, who's spent most of this leg of the voyage sulking in his room, but this is  _ Gig.  _ Honestly, until this moment they're not sure if they've ever even seen Gig  _ frown  _ let alone hold the anxious, upset tension that he has now.

 

Tentatively, they reach forward, covering his hand with their's. Gig inhales sharply, looking up at them with wide eyes. 

 

“Yeah,” they say, “we're okay.”

 

Gig's pulse kicks up another notch, and he swallows. “That's-- good. I… thanks.”

 

They fight off a smile at the sight of Gig being lost for words. 

 

“I didn't know my opinion was that important to you,” they say, tone teasing. 

 

Gig's eyes get even wider. “Are you kidding? It's  _ so  _ important!”

 

Their throat feels suddenly tight. A new notification pops up on their eye patch.  _ Their _ pulse has gone up. 

 

“Oh,” they say faintly.

 

Gig puts his other hand over their's. “Of  _ course  _ it's important to me what you think. It always has been.”

 

“That's,” they swallow, “yeah. Good to know.”

 

Gig bites his lip, drawing their eyes down for a moment. The notification on their eye patch updates, informing them that their pulse kicks up another notch. Echo makes a noise of frustration, pushing it off their eye. 

 

“What--” Gig starts to say. 

 

“That eye patch is great, but also it  _ really  _ needs to mind it's own business.”

 

Gig laughs, tapping the side of his head that has his cybereye. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Echo huffs a laugh, and Gig grins.

 

Gig puts his hand back down on their hand and then flinches, looking startled, his hand jerking back up. 

 

“Uh, sorry, I know you-- sorry,” says Gig, pink tinge rising in his cheeks again. 

 

“It's fine,” says Echo, amused. 

 

Despite their words, panic is written large on Gig's face. 

 

“Hey,” says Echo, “hey, it's fine.”

 

They reach out, putting a hand on Gig's cheek. Gig freezes, swallowing hard. Their eyes follow the line of his throat as his swallows, momentarily captivated, before they shake themselves.

 

“Sorry,” they say, moving to pull back. 

 

This time it's Gig that grabs their hand. “No, wait.”

 

They wait, looking from Gig's hands clasped around their own and back up to his face. Gig bites his lip. 

 

“Hey, Echo, um,” says Gig, a slight tremble to his voice,”do you, I'm… do you…”

 

“Oh my god,” huffs Echo, and leans forward to capture Gig's still moving lips in a kiss. 

 

It's objectively pretty terrible -- a harsh clack of teeth, and Gig starts in surprise ruining any chance of technique either of them had. But then Gig makes a soft sound into their mouth, his hands coming up to card through their hair. Echo sighs, turning so they can lean closer to Gig, pressing their body against his. 

 

They're both breathing hard by the time they break apart. Echo doesn't need their eye patch to know their pulses are elevated. 

 

“ _ Wow _ ,” says Gig, with feeling. 

 

Echo laughs, and pulls him in again. 

  
  


_ An continued excerpt from KepFans: the mesh’s longest running Gig Kep-hart fan forum _

Eyeguyfan251: yeah but how do you know ANY of that is true

GumptionGurl: come on

GumptionGurl: as if youre not getting that Vibe from them

Eyeguyfan251: a “vibe” isn't proof

SafetyNet (mod): guys can we please keep all dating speculation to the appropriate locked thread

  
  


_ The Crew of The Notion _

The long corridors of The Notion are still, the faint noise of voices echoing through from deep within. It’s late, according to the relative rhythms of the ship -- there’s no real set time in the Mirage anymore, and the half-mesh space of the pool room makes even the air feel dreamy, the plush cushions scattered on the floor dissolving into one another and reforming as Tender’s focus slips, just for a moment.

 

She leans forward to cup Gig’s cheek and he leans into her touch, his breath hot on her skin as he gasps. They’ve worked him through more than a few peaks already, his body loose and relaxed after being on-stream so long for the mission.

 

“Okay?” she murmurs.

 

Gig swallows hard before nodding, his eyes slipping shut again and mouth going slack as Echo adds another finger. Tender feels Fourteen move closer, their bare skin pressing along the line of her back as they ghost a finger over Gig’s lips. Gig gasps again, short, quick inhales verging on a whine.

 

Fourteen hooks their chin over her shoulder, making a pleased noise as they take in the sight of Gig, his trembling arms, the way he keeps trying to thrust backwards onto Echo’s fingers only to be kept in place by the thick tendrils of Even’s hair.

 

He nuzzles against her palm, and Tender slides her hand under his chin, tilting his face up toward them.

 

“Think you can take more?” asks Tender, keeping her voice soft.

 

Gig nods quickly. “Yeah I --  _ ohh _ \-- please, please, I want--”

 

He breaks off with a moan, his fingers clutching tightly at the thick blanket underneath him. Fourteen shifts behind her and Tender leans back against them, relaxing into them as Signet moves forward in front of Gig, her hand replacing Tender’s on Gig’s face.

 

She leans close, whispering something Tender can’t hear, focus draws away by Fourteen’s lips against her neck, their hands sliding down her body. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment and she opens them again the the fabric of Signet’s robe slipping down her back, one of Gig’s hands clutching at her thigh to support himself.

 

Signet’s head tips back, and she catches Tender’s eye. Tender grins, tilting Fourteen’s face towards her to catch them in a kiss. She hears Signet gasp, a delicate inhale verging on being unsteady, and Gig’s moan, muffled from where his face his buried between her thighs.

 

Tender shifts, pulling Fourteen so they’re in her lap. Their hands run up her sides before clutching at her hair, and she pulls them closer, letting her fingers catalogue their new body.

 

There’s another moan, deeper and a little further away. Tender breaks off from the kiss, petting through Fourteen’s hair for a moment as she watches Grand straining against the tendrils of Even’s hair towards Gig. He’s the only one of them still clothed now, the bulge of his pants visible from across the room.

 

“Give him here,” says Tender, lazily holding out her hand.

 

“Sure you can keep him in line?” says Even.

 

Tender laughs, wiggling the fingers of her outstretched hand. Even grins, releasing Grand slowly, pushing him over to where Tender and Fourteen are sitting and wrapping his newly-freed hair around Echo. Echo relaxes into their hold, the movement of their hand stuttering as Even begins to tease over their arousal, his hair curling around their thighs.

 

Grand stumbles towards Tender and Fourteen tugs at his sleeve, pulling him down close to them. He doesn’t seem to be able to look away from Gig for more than a moment, his eyes sliding over their bodies and back towards Gig again.

 

She hums to herself. Grand has a better view of things from where he’s sitting, probably. Her thoughts feel hazy and warm under Fourteen’s lips. They nip at a spot under her jaw, and she lets out a gasp. She can feel them smile against her skin. She runs a hand along their back, pulling them close, and Fourteen wriggles, settling for a moment before they begin to kiss down her chest.

 

Tender arches up towards their mouth, carding her hand through their hair as they move lower. With her other hand, she reaches for Grand, pulling him back down as he leans towards Gig.

 

“He’s busy,” says Tender, “And it’s not your turn.”

 

Grand whimpers.

 

Tender hums. “He had a long stream of belonging to everybody while we were out. You have to give him time to go back to belonging to just us.”

 

She hears Gig moan. She can just see him behind Signet, body trembling, Signet’s delicate fingers clutching his hair. Grand bites his lip, his fingers digging into the cushion he’s sitting on.

 

Tender slides her hand around Grand’s thigh, her fingers brushing over the bulge of his erection. Grand moans this time, loud in the echoing space of the pool room, arching up into empty air. He’s flushed as he moves back down, eyes darting around the room as though to check who noticed.

 

From Echo and Even’s reaction, they definitely noticed. Echo arches against Even’s arm where it’s slung across their chest, keeping them pulled tight against Even’s side. Even grins, sharp, and turns his face into Echo’s neck. He sucks a line of kisses down their neck before a groan from Gig draws both of their attention back to him.

 

“He must be close,” says Tender, leaning over to speak softly into Grand’s ear, “he must be so,  _ so _ close.”

 

Grand squirms. He doesn’t try to move towards Gig again, as though he’s pinned him place by the light touch of her hand on his thigh. She slides her hand slowly up Grand’s chest, toying with the zip of his hoodie before she slides her hand back down, grinding the heel of her palm down. Grand swears at the sudden friction, his voice cracking.

 

Fourteen hums their amusement into her thigh, and she smiles down at them, running her claws lightly along their horns in the way she knows they like. They shiver. 

 

Tender hooks her heels around their back, pulling them closer as she slowly runs her hand over Grand as they both watch Gig. There’s no rhythm to any of them now, the tendrils of Even’s hair twisting tightly around Echo and Gig as they both shake, half formed words falling from Echo’s lips. They slump back against Even, turning towards him and running a clumsy hand over him.

 

Gig whimpers at the suddenly missing sensation.

 

“Well--” Tender gasps as Fourteen curls their tongue,  _ God,  _ this new body of their’s, “Well, you’d better go help him.”

 

Grand practically lunges forward, half-crawling, half-falling towards Gig. His hands are shaking as he traces his fingers in unseen patterns along Gig’s side, pressing a messy kiss to Gig’s lower back. Tender can see him trail his hands up Gig’s thighs, inhaling sharply at the wetness coating Gig’s skin.

 

Gig whimpers, his legs opening wider.

 

“Don’t tease,” says Signet.

 

Tender bites her lip at the ragged tone of Signet’s voice. Fourteen adds a finger to work beside their tongue, and Tender clutches at their horns, her hips grinding up against their mouth.

 

Grand pushes into Gig slowly, running an unsteady hand up and down Gig’s back. Gig’s hand on Signet’s thigh tightens as he moans into her, pushing himself back onto Grand and then back towards Signet. Her hand tightens in Gig’s hair, pulling another moan from him.

 

Grand brings a hand around Gig’s front, out of Tender’s view. He keeps both motions in time with each other, his breathing growing steadily more ragged. 

 

Fourteen adds another finger and  _ curls _ them and Tender squeezes her eyes shut, aware of all that she missing by doing so and overwhelmed by it. Fourteen is in her lap as she comes back to herself. Her tail is wrapped around their waist as they lean back against her, watching the others.

 

Gig shudders, and then shudders again, his body trembling as it tips over the edge. Grand follows him, biting at his lip in a futile attempt to quiet his moans. He bends, pressing his chest against Gig back.

 

Signet tenses, her hand fluttering for a moment before it clutches tightly at Gig’s shoulder. She’s quiet, in comparison, letting out long, breathy sighs. Her hand trembles a little as she pets along Gig’s shoulders before she sits back, lying next to Tender and Fourteen.

 

Gig crawls to sit in Grand’s lap, pulling him in for a kiss. Grand wraps his arms around Gig, letting Gig push him until they’re both lying next to each other on the thick cushions. Gig sighs as he breaks off the kiss, sounding pleased and sleepy. 

 

He waves a hand in Tender’s direction, and Tender huffs a laugh. She shifts, pulling Fourteen and Signet with her. Even and Echo have the same idea, curling around Grand and relaxing into each other. Tender presses a kiss to Gig’s shoulder, settling in before she mentally pulls blankets into existence.

 

“Oh good idea,” mumbles Gig, already half-asleep.

 

A few other murmur the same. Tender smiles, curling an arm around Fourteen’s side as they burrow close to her.

 

No one goes back to their respective rooms that night. Instead, they sleep in the pool room, wrapped up in each other and the things of Tender’s creation, safe and warm.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
